Tagged: #treesisters

fullmoonwaterrainbow mandala

Feeling quite excited about the way the mandalas are evolving…..or maybe it was a fluke…

kat robertson artist

….still feeling this meditation….
Thank you Treesisters for this series of wonderful, elemental, Full Moon Calls…..
Rewilding of the spirit.

(This was born from these two images.)

Riding the rapids.

(NOTE: this blog post is subject to tweaks as I ‘ride these rapids’ of information!)

So here we are.

I had predicted, even hoped for, some kind of natural wake-up call for the planet, but I had never really thought I would live to experience a viral pandemic.
A pandemic of sci-fi proportions by measure of the media frenzy and the government measures imposed!
I was not prepared for this.

Although it seems so obvious now.

I lie awake each morning, with every new day inspiring, and the media triggering, so many responses.
So many  philosophical perspectives. Changing with the days.
Sometimes Paranoia.
Sometimes Conspiracy.
Sometimes The Fear.  
But often optimism and intense revelations.
I should like to call it the virus.
To take away it’s crown.
It is after all, just another virus. That is all.
It’s massive effects on our present human colonies cannot be downplayed, but I am not sure it deserves a crown!
(I do see though, in it’s form, the reasons why they named it so.)

Like so many other humans on this planet I am having such an intense journey with this unfolding pandemic and it is this that screams to be expressed.
The only way I can see how to do this is to just sit down and let the words pour out.
To be later edited and wrangled into some sort of form.

I am realizing now that it all began for me with a vision in at the end of January.
I became unusually haunted by a pattern of sorts.
As a large part of my work involves talking with other spiritually-minded people, light-workers and energy-workers, around the world, all focusing intent and weaving a ‘net of light and love’ around the planet and praying for Earth balance and wholeness. This pattern seemed, initially, obviously connected, to be interwoven with, arising from, this work.

Connected. Connection. Weaving. Spinning. Protection.

I developed many images to illustrate this pattern I was ‘seeing’. All shared previously on this blog.
I worked with a wasps nest to inspire these.

Post publishing, a friend, on seeing it, shared this image of a pollen seed with me.
It bore an uncanny resemblance to what I seemed to be channeling here.
This made me happy.

Positive pollinating. Spreading the healing. The idea of Earth-healing networks.

a pollen grain (not sure now which plant!)

Then a darker shadow began to emerge as I was divinely guided to research, to try and understand, the physical infrastructure of 5G.
How it worked.
The towers and satellites proposed.
The Earth surrounded, this time, by artificial, man-made, networks.
Signals bouncing between the surface towers and the surrounding satellites in a 3D, 360°, sphere.
A different kind of, Earth to Sky connected, invisible, spiky, ball.
It filled me with a deep terror.
I began to wonder if this was connected to the pattern somehow.
If this was what I had been sensing happening.
If the pattern that presented was actually a warning.

A stroll through my Facebook profile shares and my daily connecting with the zeitgeist seems to show this journey well.
The original images.
The expressed fears about this new technology.
‘When old growth ends’ video.
Images of the delta patterns in trees, Laniakia, blood vessels, eyes, returned to my consciousness.
Lungs.
Then came that spell of wild weather.
Intense rainfall and repeated storms.
I made videos of the quick changing light across the land.
I referenced the need for resilience, the ability to bend.

New evidence, from NASA, of the sun’s cellular structure echoed this pattern again!

NASA image of the sun’s cellular structure

These surface spots that reach out from centre and form, visible, cellular structures on the surface of a sphere!

Then I also noticed how Ai companies were utilizing the honeycomb/bee image, in their logos, branding and presentations.
More connections.
Some kind of hive mind.
This began to feed more of my own conspiratorial, free, thinking.

I struggle with deep waves of nostalgia and ‘end of days’ feelings.
Feelings of powerlessness.
Ideas of extremes and extremities haunt my mind in meditation.
The gap, that I am so fond of ‘putting myself in’, now had edges/boundaries that were stretching, wider and wider, apart.
So far apart that I feel sometimes I am loosing sight of them.

I pondered the roles of the presynaptic and postsynaptic neurons in the brain.
How the synapses, (the gaps between transmitters and receivers),  become larger, when natural hallucinogens are introduced to the body.
This, I have always assimilated, allows more SPACE for dreaming.
When our schedules are less tight and restrictive/prescriptive there is more space for dreaming.
Hence my long time fascination in all aspects of altered states and the stillness of meditation.

This has been the entire concept that lies behind this Rolling Om experiment.
It began by turning my own negative feelings of felt, geographical, isolation into something positive.
A healing of sorts, a way to strengthen the feeling that, despite my lack of social contact, I still belonged.
Embracing my isolated situation, the ‘gap’ I found myself in, by putting myself even deeper into it.
BEING HERE FULLY.
Facing my fears of social isolation.
At the same time tuning into, assimilating, the zeitgeist that came pouring into my own ‘sphere of influence’ through these screaming screens.
Then exploring inner landscapes, my honest, personal, response, and sitting with it.
Trusting what divinely presented, responding intuitively, using my varied creative abilities, then sharing this with the world online.
Trying always not to over-think or to please.
Just to present it as it arose, in it’s raw state.
(Allowing only for basic editing. Sometimes the ideas do also evolve during this process, but the aim is to stay true to initial, intuitive impulse.)
For all who witnessed either to take or leave.
The basic brief to self being:
What happens when a, creative individual, connects with all this human noise, steps back from it, assimilates, then turns their attention to their inner response and emotions? Then, while holding the whole of it, without allowing that ‘monkey mind’ to control/manipulate the impulse, bringing this into some kind of form, using what ever medium calls?

It did not take very long, due to my location, before the natural world, immediately around me, leapt, sharply, into focus.
I found I was not ‘alone’.
It became obvious that I was totally supported.
Loved even.
And it is this that has evolved to be the main ‘message’ of my work now.
I have certainly found that the more I release myself from the conditioned routines and expectations, I experience less anxiety, become more focused on the NOW and I am enabled to see the whole more clearly!
And these experiments have resulted in a lot of art, essays and poetry which help me to see myself as a ‘real’ person, with a purpose (outside of mother and householder which still take priority), something I really needed to see, as a large part of my depression was the feeling I was not using my gifts, in any way, to benefit (?) the world.

Transmitters and Receivers.

I begin to see more patterns.
Perhaps I am looking out for them? Reading too much into them?
Or are they simply asking for my attention?

The random hail storms played Tetris on my window pane.
Each ‘block’ landing and toppling the next.
‘Every action has an equal and opposite reaction’
I made a video.

I struggle with feelings of anger toward the companies who now threaten the Earth by ‘playing God’ with frequency.
I am often reminded of the huge lesson I had learned living with the with the Kalash tribe in North Pakistan over a few years in the early 1990’s.
A learning I have never forgotten.
Their elders, their shaman, (badyash), having no culture of lying, complained re-the the loss of something that they used to hear, but that is now drowned out by some kind of ‘interference’.
What they used to hear had been crucial to their entire spiritual existence, it informed them of right action, guided them.
Lack of being able to hear this was why their elders were dwindling in number and the reason they were so resigned to their fate.
(I can feel a separate blog post coming up on this.)

The indigenous struggles, globally, take a high place in my awareness.
The ‘innocents’ whose knowledge we now need so urgently, but whose environments are, so severely, threatened.

I find myself playing with the word ‘culture’.
Instead of celebrating it as a word to describe diversity, the beauty of human imagination and intelligence, I use it instead as ‘culture’ meaning something that grows on something else, taking from it, often something that is sick or dying.
Our civilization as a petri dish.

Bacteria.

I search for positive, Utopian, dreaming and find so much.
I mourn the loss of habitats, this time of mass extinction, and find so much to mourn.
I cheer all Restoration.

I was, quite suddenly, gifted, and driven to draw, in pen and ink, a balancing, yin-yang, design, that spoke of the wonder of transpiration in trees.
I shared it with Treesisters. It sold almost immediately.

Treesisters.
Always a hub of singing, sistering and evolution. I value my connection with these sisters so deeply now.
A golden thread.
Connecting like-minded women, and providing a supportive network, form the basis of much of their work.
That and reforestation projects.
A beloved online group keeping me connected with the Earth, the Mother, the cycles of the Moon and with the TREES.

TREES.
Those other stunning, unfathomable, Earth to Sky connections.
Those living aerials.
That also grow outwards, from this revolving sphere, while also knitting it together with their network of deep roots.

That pattern again.
Except with the downward anchor of roots. As above so below.

I have been twisting soft rope, from rushes, for another online project.
A fellow artist, Adrian Baker, was calling out for ‘strands’ made from any fibre for an installation in Canada.
‘The installation is inspired by ‘the underground ‘network’ of mycorrhizal fungi which enables trees to communicate with one another through their roots. It also represents our connection to each other, in person or through the online ‘network’’
A technique I intend to continue, as it is very calming, productive and satisfying.

Connected. Connection. Weaving. Spinning. Protection.

Positive pollinating. Spreading the healing. The idea of Earth healing networks.

Transmitters and Receivers.

I picked up loads of usnea lichen, blown off the trees by the storms.
I made a mask of lichen.
And found myself, not for the first time, connecting intensely, with this extraordinary, totally independent and symbiotic, clean-air reliant, dual organism.
I became even more fascinated with its intricate, branching, structure.

Then, as if by magic, a local lichen-walk popped up on my Facebook thread.
I went to that, just a week before this ‘lock down’, and wrote this blog post about it.

I worked with ideas of natural masks, to camouflage us in the forest, as if to hide our humanity.
Also with ideas of ‘the invisible masks’ we all hide behind.

Now so many are wearing masks. Masks of protection.

I am hearing, more and more, new, great discussion and drama, on BBC radio and television, somehow connecting into all discussed above. Primarily new si-fi works dealing with ideas of new technology, Ai and potential evolutions, but also much connecting to Nature and our relationship with it.

So many talented artists searching for new narratives.

News of the virus in China was beginning to really hit the headlines.

Then I looked at published pictures of viruses under the electron microscope and was struck by their beauty and, again, by the similarity they held to my original drawing!
Just what was going on!?
Something significant was shifting.  

enhanced image of the corona virus
under the electron microscope

Around this time I also began to work on breaking this, now 3 year long, self-isolating, practice and to become more involved in the community.
New projects, that I have long encouraged/supported and wanted to see locally, were beginning to appear.
I experienced a need to be more involved, physically, in these seeding initiatives.
Creative Hubs. Re-wilding groups. Gatherings of pro-active persons. Working together in areas that have long fascinated me, that I have accumulated a lot experience in.
I have never had the status, strength or confidence to lead these initiatives, but have long dreamed these into being, in conversation and, occasional participation.  

I learned of a giant puppet, called Storm, that is coming to our local town in September.
I understood it’s message, felt it, on a deep level immediately.
A storm was indeed coming.
It resonated in my bones.
I already knew Vision Mechanics, the organization that created and built this mighty, travelling, Goddess, quite well. I had attended some of their workshops and had travelled long distances, often with my children, over the years, to support their work and expand my knowledge of puppetry. I had even networked with them with regard to, one day, building my own, travelling, puppet show.
Due to taking one of my breaks from consuming information through the internet, I had missed her debut in Glasgow. I could not believe it!
I called them asking what I could do.

promotional image of STORM puppet

I began to dream of offerings, that I could gather, with others, to make real, for her visit.
I thought some singing sirens would be great, or perhaps, some pavement art.
I called the one person I thought it would be great to work with and it turned out that she was one of the artists who had written the soundtrack for this performance!
What was the likely hood of that!?
She agreed that it would be good for me to get some local ‘happenings’ together.
I began to put out feelers, reach out to others, began to network, to attend a few events.
This, as usual for me now, brought up much anxiety, challenged my fears of collaborating with others, but I have been working hard on creating the boundaries, necessary for an extreme Empath/sensitive to have in social situations, and I felt I was ready.

I became involved in other ‘thread/fibre’ projects.
Sending out still more strands around the world, as part of ‘Weaving women back into matter’ within Treesisters. 
I wove my dreaming into a heart of braided rushes and hung that on a white barked, Himalayan, birch tree, leaving the wind to carry my prayers.

Then I had the Buddha’s head incident!

my broken Buddha statue

(text below copied and pasted from original Facebook post)

‘This morning, in trying to open my window fully, so I could sit IN the sunshine, while still INSIDE (the sun came did come out for 1/2 hour!!), I accidentally knocked the head of a beloved, small, clay Buddha! (It had been a gift from the Sri Lankan Buddhist centre in Glasgow, where I studied teaching mindfulness, so was precious to me.)
I then struggled to close the window and found that it was the tiny head that was jamming it!
At first I was very upset, finding negative significance in this ‘event, but as I sat with this ‘loss’, held the two pieces, I began to find this more and more interesting….the metaphors in this small ‘happening’…the meaning of it….the whole concept of a headless Buddha….I realised that my initial ‘upset’ was clearly materialist and linked to attachment.
A buddhist approach to the mind, meditation and mindfulness, IS what ‘keeps the window open’ in my experience…
In ‘opening the window wider’, for more Light (vitamin D! ), I knocked the limiting, physical, head off Buddha! And, curiously, the resulting ‘headless’ body definitely speaks louder to me of the experience of meditation than his whole form ever did!
Online I found many images/stories of decapitated Buddhas….mostly ransacked/defiled by invaders , also a story from Cambodia where the Buddhas were beheaded by the villagers themselves for the real ‘gold inside’ ( in itself another intriguing metaphor!). I also found an interesting Asian artist that makes this the subject of the majority of his work. He reunites heads and bodies in a conceptual way…..in a kind of healing I suppose.
There is definitely a koan/poem in this tiny happening for me….so all in all….a gift.
Love this picture of one of the (aggressively) decapitated heads at Angkor, lovingly, carefully, placed in the tree roots….Think I might do this in my garden somewhere with ‘my’ tiny clay head!’


The day I posted this friend contacted me to say that exactly the same thing had happened to her Buddha statue….that day! A few days later another friend commented how strange it felt to read my post as she had been talking with an acquaintance about the decapitated, Cambodian, Buddha’s that day also!

I picked a book at random, today, and it fell open on these words;

‘Carrying a Buddha nothing can happen, because how can you carry a Buddha? You can only carry a statue. Buddha has to be lived, not carried. Buddha has to be loved, not possessed. You have to dissolve yourself in the Buddha, not carry him as your possession.’
(Osho: ‘No Water. No Moon: Talks on Zen Stories)

There is a message in all this somehow.
What can it be?
What am I not seeing?
Are we all ‘losing ‘our heads’?!
Or is it, as above, simply Time to examine/explore events from other perspectives, to find the positive in, what may appear to be, negative events?

I was carrying the hoover downstairs and I stood on the electric plug and found these words…

Yesterday I stood on a plug.
The electric kind.
Man it hurt.
It left its three pronged mark in my sole.
I bled.
It reminded me of this piece I drew in 2017.
Unplugged
A poke.
A nudge.
A reminder.
Not to get too involved in all this Fear.
Not to get lost in this artificial narrative.
To leave this screen.
Turn off the computer.
And return to the unpopulated Wonder
And Beauty that IS all around.
Seek that out.
Listen instead to the bird song,
Walk barefoot on deep mosses,
Disconnect
from all this infernal human
noise.
Breathe deep and Open my Eyes.

Kat Robertson March 17 2020

I was out walking and saw some natural, local, clay. I was guided to dig some up for processing to make some, ceremonial, prayer, ‘earth pots’.
I contacted a local potter to make a date to learn how to ‘pit-fire’ them later in the year.
On the ‘otherside’ of this pandemic.
I am looking forward to that.

I played with this raw clay and the Buddha’s head.
I ‘planted’ his head in the Earth, as if he was growing from it, or sinking into it.
I then ‘fixed’ the broken Buddha with this earth clay.
I changed the angle of his head.
He took on a much more lively and playful attitude.
He came ALIVE.
Mended with earth.
All around the throat chakra.
Talking for the earth.

My meditations begin to undergo simple evolutions.
Still simply asking ‘show me’ and opening myself up to all around, but they also became more deeply about sensation in the body.
Often I would find myself responding in more movement.
Sometimes standing, often squatting on the earth, head bowed.
Being more open too to the visuals that arose behind my closed eyelids.

And there it was again.
The same pattern keeps coming up.
The ‘net’ around the sphere lit up, but with a dark spot, a rip in the web of light, similar to the hole in the ozone layer.

Each time this presents I work to visualize closing/mending the hole in the net.

The virus was really began to hit home.

Like all families, so far affected, we have had to assimilate all the ever-changing information, disruption of routines and learn to lean into the discomfort.

Many events, I had signed up to participate in, were cancelled.
Gaia seemed determined to get me to focus.
To stay in this solo conversation with this infinite micro-macro, living, world I now inhabit.
To sit ever more firmly in the gap.

While I feel for all affected, I cannot help but see so many potential solutions.
The possibility that this, this horror, this terrible virus, could also hold so many answers to the problem of climate change.

In consequence I also can be a bit obsessed by the question as to whether it was natural or designed.
Unsure now of just which side I am ‘working’ for!
If indeed there are any sides in this at all, or very many?
 I do know, however, that I feel trapped between two distinct ‘landscapes’.
The human/humanitarian and the Gaian/holistic, view.
While I have despaired, often, at our collective, human, seeming lack of ability to change our behaviour when faced with the threat of climate change, I have always managed to remain a humanitarian.
Now I almost feel we deserve this virus.
I have never felt quite like this before.

I became involved in a debate about a supposedly ‘fake news’ list of tips to survive corona virus that was being damned by the mainstream media.
A friend had sent it to me and I liked it so much I shared it.
I was immediately inundated with others, blunt posting, of ready-made, ‘warning: this is fake news’ articles.
Links that, in my reality, appeared even more fake!
The original message stressed natural healing and there was nothing in the advice shared that clashed with my knowledge of how to keep healthy in the face of a flu virus.
It was, perhaps rightly, being decried as it did not also stress the need for hand cleaning and social distancing and some of the science was unproven….
But fresh air, sunshine, salt gargles, deep breathing did not seem like advice that warranted the reaction it received.
I began to mistrust this whole virus.
Not that it was not real, but exploring ideas that it was not natural.
It just seemed too much of a coincidence that Wuhan happens to be the location of one of the world’s biggest centres for virology…..I have since read many articles ‘explaining’ why this not the case, but they still ‘ring hollow when tapped’.
Somewhere, online, I learned that Bill Gates, apparently, owns the patents for two other, previous, types of corona virus……

For a few days I became lost in ideas of this being man-made, but soon realised that that way of thinking, even if true, does nothing to protect my family or change what is happening NOW.

Besides, who knows what to believe in all this hysteria?

And this virus is most definitely here.

I began to find others believing, like me, that it could, indeed, be the best thing that ever happened to this planet.

There is a long list of pros. Here are some off the top of my head!:

Cleaner air as industry grinds to a halt.
Cleaner air would mean far fewer deaths in the long run.
Encourage people to see air travel to other countries, exotic locations, as a real adventure, a special privilege, not something to be taken for granted. Never a commute.
Who wants to find themselves trapped on the other side of the world?
Travel is a risky business!
New approaches to economy.
Ideas of free internet being muted by educationalists.
Re-nationalization of our transport infrastructure being discussed.
Deeper respect for our treasured health services and other vital key workers. The waste services I notice are little mentioned or celebrated.
The understanding of how interconnected we all are.
The leveling of humans around the globe.
Less people.
The spreading of kindness. More thoughtfulness for others.
Enforced isolation bringing many to face themselves, given an opportunity to re-evaluate their lives.
The re-emergence of LOVE.
LOVE as a counter-virus, spreading fast.
Experiments with new forms of education.
Need for increased awareness re-resources.
Weeding out of dependency on state.
Encouragement of more free thinking independence.

What a wake up call!
In every way the kind of shift that so many of us had been praying for! For so long!

The planet can breathe better again!
All in Nature sings with joy.
Thank you! Thank YOU! Thank you!
Can you hear it too?
Now we can ALL begin to breathe again.
For this is GLOBAL air.
Enough to, healthily, stimulate our boundless brains
To invent, re-invent, circumvent, vent,
Encourage effective ventilation! Transpiration!
A celebration!
An opportunity to learn to see, at last, new ways to live in better harmony with this
Our Earth. Mother. Ship.
As this threat rises and ebbs away
Let’s not return to our old ways blindly.
Like most addictions, we must learn to resist temptation.
Lean into this discomfort.
Less is more.
Cleaner air brings fewer deaths in the bigger picture.
In Time may we be able to drop the masks of conditioned culture.
All is in the balance.
Bow to this virus, whatever it’s source, and assume responsibility,
Like any Mother, there is only so much she can give,
Before it becomes Time to look after Her.

Kat Robertson March 19 2020.

Again a surge in purpose. An affirmation.

The timing has been violent in many ways.
Just as I begin to reach out from my own self-imposed retreat I find myself confined again.
But also, as a consequence, I have been more able to help others in our community.
Signing up as a volunteer to keep an eye on folk, to help with getting shopping. Making myself available.
Offering learned alternative wisdoms to those who ask. Herbal tonics. Plant medicines. Foraging tips.

How to live without toilet paper.

Nothing much has changed for us here on our hill.
I enjoy isolation. I have skills to share that many others now need to form. The contented ability to withdraw.
How to enjoy spending time alone, in one place, without becoming lonely or trapped.

My public, online, celebration of Gaia and the space around me here, did come into question though, when 1000’s of wealthy ‘corona refugees’ swarmed out of the cities, to their second homes, or in motorhomes, to our more remote communities.
For a short while our rural, health and food infrastructure was threatening to buckle under the pressure.
I wondered if, through social media, I should be ‘advertising’ the beauty and space available to us?
I do experience huge empathy with this need to find places away from urban development, to breathe, to escape contagion, but they bring with them such problems for our existing infrastructure.
I saw posts saying ‘Go Home Idiots’ and found myself agreeing.  
I was unable to buy pasta (or toilet roll for other members of my family, I am content with washing!), as they cleaned out our stores in search of supplies. It seemed all so selfish of them!
Then the government began threaten fines for this behaviour, driving the message to ‘stay at home’ and this wave, has now, receded.
(I noticed too that that same government never acknowledged that it was their, fearful, message that instigated that panicked response)
These are the same, urban, people who generally refer to people who choose this rural lifestyle, as remote ‘country-bumpkins’, when in fact we are far from it.
We are connected. Earthed.
We choose to live away from others, their confusing, urban,social games and complexity.
There are other sacrifices made to in order enjoy this space.
Not all easy.
The sheer distances involved make for a pretty hardy, self reliant bunch of folks. Support networks all further away. Everything requires planning.
Take ways, cinema, cultural events, for example, are seen as luxuries/treats never taken for granted.
Our small communities now also largely rely on them. On their ‘tourist dollar’….often partially ‘enslaved’ to their visiting….
Yet this emergency means they become ‘not welcome’….
So many gaps closing, walls being built, as the extremes become wider.

Then another extraordinary turn of events meant I was also brought face to face with our own dependency on the system, having been feeling quite smug about our ability to sit out this pandemic on our remote hill.
We are the kind of family that rarely has need of the NHS.
But, shortly after this virus began to impact on us all, my son began vomiting violently. We telephoned our surgery on the 3rd day. He could keep nothing down and was visibly fading. The doctor said he needed to see him.
We drove the 30 miles to the surgery and blood and urine samples were taken. Judging by the queues outside the pharmacy and the new protocol at the surgery, it was becoming clear that this pandemic was making it’s mark. The doctor prescribed some pain killers for the acute stomach pain my son was experiencing and anti-nausea pills, suggesting that we return home and keep a close eye on him, but not to hesitate if the situation worsened, as he believed it could be appendicitis.
One hour after arriving back home, the phone rang.
His bloods showed that he was at risk of appendicitis!
We were requested to return immediately and attend the hospital, to pack a bag, as surgery may be necessary.
We jumped back into the car.
The hospital really was the last place we wanted to go in these times!
Some workers were installing a huge ‘Corona Virus protocol’ sign outside the A&E department.
As it turned out it, it was decided that it was a false alarm, that it was just a tummy bug.
With a huge sigh of relief we completed the 120 mile round trip and returned home.
He is well now.
Then that same week we had to call an ambulance.
A man, working on site taking my husband’s, fire damaged, steel shed down, fell 15ft, off a ladder, onto concrete.
Seems he has smashed his shoulder blade and broken his ankle.
I experience deep gratitude for all key workers.

All in the balance.


How lovely my life is now with all my boys home, safe.
(Despite their teenage tendencies to consume and spend all available time on screen, ignoring our advice and calls to come outside. Draconian measures soon to be instigated within our four walls!)
Lovely too that the garage is quiet.
No industrial work continuously grinding on around.
Although goddess only knows how we are going to survive, financially, without that income.
It has been one year since that catastrophic fire and we are have still not received all the monies owed to us through the insurance.
We had, at long last, received the permission from them to ‘tear-down’ the damaged shed and things were feeling more positive, less ‘stuck’ in limbo. But now all plans for the new structure and rebuild are on hold again, due to the ‘lock down’…..
Small comfort that we certainly are not alone in this dilemma…..

A part of me is hoping that things never go ‘back to normal’.
I have always detested ‘normal’.
Paradoxes surround.
A Terror or a Cure?
Potential sci-fi plots grow in my mind.
What other reasons might there be for ‘them’ to want us all indoors, stuck on our screens?
An email from this appeal dropped into my mail box.
On Wednesday, March 18, SpaceX launched 60 more satellites into space from Cape Canaveral, Florida, bringing the total of SpaceX’s Starlink satellites orbiting the earth to 350.
Also on March 18, OneWeb launched 34 more satellites into space from the Baikonur Cosmodrome in Kazakhstan, bringing the total of OneWeb’s satellites orbiting the earth to 74.
None of these satellites have yet gone into operation, but on March 13, 2020, the Federal Communications Commission granted SpaceX permission to sell one million user devices to American customers.
This has turned a long-standing concern into an emergency. For last fall, SpaceX announced its intention to begin providing 5G service to the northern United States and southern Canada after it had at least 400 satellites orbiting the earth.
The threat to terrestrial life — at least in portions of North America — may now be only weeks away.’


Seems that, for some, business continues very much as usual.

Why too does the media down play that Wuhan connection?
Blaming Chinese eating habits without ever even stating that Wuhan is the location of that international centre of virology?
I cannot be alone in finding that stark omission suspicious, especially when then are so many precedents for genetic ‘mucking about’ resulting in similar epidemics….

(Here I am speculating about things I cannot change again….it seems I cannot help it…)

It has been clear to many of us that ‘too many humans’ has been the problem for some considerable amount of time.
Is this their solution?
Or the Earth’s solution?
Whose side am I now on?!
If it is a ‘them’, do they even know what they are doing?
It has also been clear to so many of us that the worlds resources could be shared far more efficiently for a very long time.
Is this their aim?
Or is there someone, somewhere, who stands to gain more out of this than the rest of us?

(I quiet my mind and stare out into our spring garden. All appears exactly the same as before. Feeling , not for the first time, to be in the eye of a storm. A blue tit comes and hangs off the window frame.)

Of course I am full of sadness/grief for all those that will lose their lives and/ or family.
Affected also by the Fear I feel in the air when I make my weekly shopping trips (for two families now) and in the voices of friends and families when we talk on the phone.
Let’s face it, it could be me or those I love.
But the bigger picture continues to haunt me.

I had a very powerful dream last night.
One of those ones that verges on a vision.

A castellated fortress sticking out into the water.
Whole communities living within its walls.
I lived among them.
Our peace was being threatened by an unseen enemy.
We were preparing for war.
A vanguard of the best looking men you have ever seen, true warriors of all races, arrived in a dramatic convoy, to help with the fight.
They paid little attention to me.
That is until I flew!!
I really flew!!
I can remember the feeling now.
It is years since I lucidly flew in dreaming.
I was in complete control of it.
I demonstrated my ‘power’ to them and earned respect.
I guided them through this sprawling, labyrinthine, structure, and found ways to get higher, to the top, the ramparts.
They needed to get a grip on the lie of the land.
From there we could see far across the water to the hills beyond….the enemy was lining the horizon….an army of identical robotic, holographic, soldiers….

It was then we stopped Time itself.

I woke up knowing that I had to get this all out how ever it came.

And now here it is.

This massed, knotted, thread of words.

An alternative documentation of exceptional times, my unique response to the experience, so far……

It seems to suggest that I need to trust my intuition more.

Perhaps it was, in fact, the virus I ‘saw’ coming in those first patterns?
Perhaps this virus is, in fact, little more than the common flu?
The hype making it far more dangerous than it would have been if allowed to take it’s course?

If it was or was not it is of little relevance now.

What I choose to take away from ALL this is how connected and intertwined all of our, collective, dreaming and inspiration is and that, in this, lies such huge potential, a potential that we can neither measure or even predict, a vast, unknown, potential that calls for us all to be the change we want to see. To learn to be stiller. Less is more. To learn to trust in all beyond our understanding. To practice Gratitude for small things and cleaner air.

And LOVE more.

(Just today another artist friend contacted me, from the local village, asking me if I would like to continue her ‘red thread’ of connection, a joyful art response, over on this side of the peninsula. It is based also on the idea that we are all connected and designed to be a visual reminder of this.
A red thread weaving through the landscape.
I will collect the red string from the box outside her house sometime next week.)

It is spring now.
With all this drama I have not celebrated this vernal equinox the way I usually mark it.
The weather is going to be fine these next few days.
It is in the garden that I will be found.
Weeding and seeding.
And loosing myself in wonder, gazing deep into the centre of spring flowers, singing with the birds, with mud under my finger nails and prayers on my lips.

So much love I send to this Earth and all sentients that dwell upon her.

All we can do now is look out for those around us, (not only the humans), and take each day at a time.

“Upon entering that rapid, what you must not do, is focus on all the different obstacles that could tip, shred or otherwise demolish your boat – because focusing on what frightens you, magnetizes you to them like magic. You manifest your fears. Instead, he said, you look for the ‘through line’ – the apparent pathway through the rapid that brings you to the other side, and all of you focus on that as a team.”
Mark Dubois

Now is indeed a time ‘to practice being fictional for a while’.
(a quote from Richard Bach’s Illusions: The adventures of a Reluctant Messiah)

And, as he also wrote in that wonderful book…..
‘Everything above may be wrong!’

Deep Bow to ALL Life.

I love you.
I am Sorry.
Please Forgive Us.
Thank You.

(close up of the stamen of a daffodil)

Weaving Women.

This video was arose as a way of documenting my, rather solitary, participation in Treesister’s ‘Weaving Women Back Into Matter’ initiative.
A way of sharing/showing what I got up to this International Women’s Day 2020!

And this is a video of the process I shared on Facebook!

I had no plan as to what I would do with the 5 metre length of rush rope I had made.
It grew into this woven token.
This is the finished token tied with love round the beautiful, Himalayan, white-barked birch at our backdoor.

Prayers and wishes freed to the wild.

kat robertson artist

rainbows hide 58/72

(working as part of a ‘Japanese 72 season micro-climate’ artist collaborative initiative within Treesisters)

Japanese season called ‘Shosetsu’ / lesser snow, 22nd November – 6th December
Micro climate ‘rainbows hide’ 22nd November – 26th November

What an incredibly ecstatic day I have had! No snow, but the frost is absolutely enchanting!
I have gone a bit mandala crazy this season with such a winter wonderland to explore.

Also beginning to think of Christmas presents….I always make up-cycle mine.
A hamper full of homemade treats and always a homemade pop-up card….these are just some of the designs I am working with.

The rainbows are not ceasing here in Argyll.
Most enchanting are the spectrum of colours that comes off every iced twig and stem, which proved difficult to capture with my wee camera.

(Click on first image to see larger images as gallery)

Made this one today from one of the above photographs. Can you work out which one?

frostedtreebranches mandala

Below I share just one of the many rainbows still gracing our skies. There is hope!

I have now fitted the woodburner and lit the fire in the Gaia-hut. Also fitted one wall wing. At last getting closer to my inside-out space being habitable as a tiny studio space…

Couldn’t resist making this gif too…..away with the frosty fairies!

The mud play continues in artden.

So many crisp and crunchy revelations, as to direction and development of my craft, in this season…too much to share here!

But a big part of it is realizing that the big, energetic, ‘push’ is over….everything I had ever dreamed would be discussed on the radio/media, and even in the political realms, fills the media daily.

At last the planet is a matter of concern for all.

And I now longer feel like I have to shout so loud from this remote hill top.
Of course, this is only really the beginning….

The greatest release is that I can now begin to return, in full heart, to what I AM.

A nature celebrant artist and visionary, simply residing in this BIG LOVE and dreaming up better, more beautiful, futures…

YAHOO!

daffodils bloom 57/72

(working as part of a ‘Japanese 72 season micro-climate’ artist collaborative initiative within Treesisters)

Japanese season called ‘Ritto’ / beginning of winter, 7th November – 21st November
Micro climate ‘daffodils bloom’ 17th November – 21st November

Phew!
Nearly lost this entire blog just now!
Seems I may have been the victim of some kind of hacker….think WordPress and I have sorted it now….I was distraught!
All this years work for nothing!
Bloomin’ technology.
It is even possible that I will be better seen now….as it appears that someone, somewhere was trying to control my activity!
Perhaps even ‘steal’ my identity or stop my simple message from getting out?!
Not really sure that it is that dangerous though….probably paranoid…
At least I always keep images and poems etc. on my hard drive….but this just goes to show how fragile our online existence really is…..

Daffodils are blooming in Japan right now?
Seems strange to me….they are so associated with spring here, but my Dad has always had some ‘rebel’ ones flower in autumn these last few years. Perhaps they are from Japanese bulb stock!?

We have been experiencing a very cold spell. The news still calls this ‘autumn’, but this feels very much like winter.

I love these ice puddle pictures.
Each one would look amazing painted as a large canvas.
Tempted to make an ice mandala….feeling very alive in his crisp, crunch….

(click on first image to see all as gallery slideshow)

The writing course seems to be dying down in urgency.
I spent a few hours working up this piece…live on screen.
I am very pleased with it.
Sandy suggested that this was a ‘ritual’. A rite of passage.
So I tried to do that as I wrote.
Returning to rhyming was both a challenge and a Joy.

The Journey

Preparation:

Breathe deep.
In …..and….out.
That’s it…slow….
Thank you, thank you, thank you….

Thank you, too, blank page of light,
That dark words, in this time, invite.
Drawing down with all my might,
For words to come
And then take flight.

A journey shared with all around,
Deep below, I sense a sound,
I could say I see it,
The aim is to be it,
The channel has only to be found…..

————————–

There is a wound, so deep and wide,
I cannot see the other side.
I only see our job to mend,
To heal, to feel, and Love to send,
To, somehow, this flowing blood, congeal,
At least that’s how I think I feel…..

The wound is, now, too deep to hide,
Still many ignore it, though millions have cried.
Our denial exposed now, for us all to see,
We need rainbow bridges, heartfelt stitches,
To fix the tears, torn, in our memory.

‘Big girl’ breeches.
Brave ‘out reaches’.
Each word like a stepping stone.
Much has changed, since way back when,
I first held this howling pen,
Now I know I’m not alone.

Throwing our whole selves in life’s rushing river,
Being never a taker, always a giver,
Creating a crossing by sharing our hearts,
This Rainbow Bridge growing, a spectrum of parts.
We stand on each other to leap ever further,
Holding steady, we put our whole faith in a future,
The golden thread tightens,
Our connection enlightens,

In fits and starts.

It fits and it starts.

Sometimes we just get washed away….
The distance to ‘bridge’ seeming longer,
But the more that we open,
to what we know how to say..
This invisible bridge gets stronger…

Go for the jugular….form platelets to clot…
Find the Grace to point out
What we really are not,
This balances vision,
This heals the division,
Simply follow this thread, dot to dot.

A stone in a river, a bridge to close,
A stitch in forever, a clot, hidden in prose,
Eons of endings meet again, their birth,
Wholeness becomes visible now
In this one, sacred, Earth.

A bringing together, to heal the divide,
Duality smashed as the mirrors collide,
The dams, an illusion,
For they held back the flow,
There is only one way for this water to go.

Stones in the river,
Heavy, connected.
These words sink in silt,
The way over, directed.

No trolls under this bridge.
No knots in this twine,
The timing is crucial.
And this timing’s DIVINE.
A clot with a keyboard,
(That is what they say!)
‘Let it be so’
the words,
I, sincerely,
PRAY.

————————————

Closing this space.

Releasing these words,
Throwing them to the sky,
I love you, I am sorry, Please forgive us,
I cry.

Three to the power of one.
This journey to wholeness has only just begun…

Be a bridge o’er this river,
Between death and birth.
Or a tree, stand connecting the heavens and Earth,
Masculine and feminine,
All in this together,
May this dance between both, play forever and ever…

In Gratitude I loose this song,
There is no right, there is no wrong
The River? It always goes back to the sea,
I hold my position, as it flows around

me.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Kat Robertson 19th November 2019

frostonmetal mandala

land starts to freeze 56/72

(working as part of a ‘Japanese 72 season micro-climate’ artist collaborative initiative within Treesisters)

Japanese season called ‘Ritto’ / beginning of winter, 7th November – 21st November
Micro climate ‘land starts to freeze’ 12th November – 16th November

The prompts for the writing course keep rolling in….finding it so difficult to juggle my creative/spiritual practice and the ‘push’ of this course, but determined to ‘hang on in there’.
My whole brief to myself is always to weave all together…to take what presents, condense it and share the experience. The process.
Basically to always speak from my Now.
‘Nows’ can be very complex and multi-layered.
Thank goodness I rarely feel compelled to weave in the more ‘real’ trials and tribulations of my family relationships, financial worries, and practical hardships, as, in many ways, those have now become very boring to me….and I am sure would be to any readers here!
It is the ‘gaps’ in living, the times spent sitting in my true Nature, as part of Gaia’s whole, I intend, with open mind, to illustrate and celebrate here.
The whole point of this experiment is to articulate the ‘gap’.
All that I feel is really missing from our modern lives, the sheer neglect of which, I feel, results in all the darkness and dis-ease that I observe almost everywhere I look.
As I turn my attention to this Now, make Time to sit firmly in that place of just being, strip away the ‘noise’, I am curious to experience that my life is fantastically enriched.
I notice more and more and, arguably, feel more and more.
I am a bigger, better, person for doing less and letting go of more!
I know that really does not make much sense in our modern world…but is exactly what I believe I am touching on, unraveling here, in this blog, in my voiced existence, as just one example of a single human being.

Life really is not as complicated as we all insist on making it.

An example of this might be the way I decided not to submit to paper all my thinking re-the last three prompts (Fear, Reverence and Shame), instead I chose to spend time holding these ‘topics’ in my psyche, turning them over and over….then I had the encounter with the swan.
It was clear to me that this was significant.
I sat down to write simply of this encounter and there it all was.
In that single experience.
No-one was more surprised than me!
I have read and re-read that submission….each time I read it I see more and more how deeply it fulfills all I wanted to say on those 3 topics.
I have actually succeeded in amazing myself!
Always a great feeling for any creative.

Apologies to any who feel that my own delight in all that I share here is inappropriate or in some way showing off or rested in ego. It is not….it is only an attempt to honestly articulate my experience.
Weirdly, if these 3 years of riding the ‘constant wave’ of inspiration (and resulting snail’s trail of physical images and words), had actually ever achieved any sort of respected recognition, I know any ‘audience’ would not be sitting back and patting me on the head, but might even be buying my paintings and poems.
I am also super-aware it is my own, very real, inability to push and fight for this recognition that means all this effort, seems destined to remain ‘useless’.

“For the perfect accomplishment of any art, you must get this feeling of the eternal present into your bones — for it is the secret of proper timing. No rush. No dawdle. Just the sense of flowing with the course of events in the same way that you dance to music, neither trying to outpace it nor lagging behind. Hurrying and delaying are alike ways of trying to resist the present.”
Alan Watts

Of course, it might all be ‘just not good enough’, but I believe it is enough.

My experience of Now is simply becoming too precious to lose to competition, selfish advancement or accumulation.

Rolling OM…..

So the ‘topics’ keep rolling into my inbox….

Jealousy. (mercifully all that was requested was a limerick!)
I wrote three versions. My favorite was:

There once was a lassie named Kat
Who always knew where she was at,
Then along came another,
A sister or brother,
And jealousy made her a prat!


Kat Robertson 14th November

So now in front of me are the next prompts:

Imagine you stick your hand into an emotional grab bag. Write from the perspective of the first one that grabs you.
The Emotional web: write the story of your/our passage from the oldworld into the new.

Followed by the promise that there will be no more prompts! Phew!

Just a week to work up a bigger piece, suitable for potential publishing.

Our efforts here described as a type of ‘collective ritual’. A rite of passage.
And the news that our wonderful ‘leader’ Sandy Ibrahim, (who has continuously offered her own inspiring words to this journey alongside us), is meeting with Micheal Mead soon.

Micheal Mead!
Wow….a man whose work I have now been introduced to through this course….
Dipping into it, it powerfully affirmed for me that all this was not a waste of Time….in fact I am simply demonstrating here exactly what so many might pay him to learn!

(So let’s take a short ‘ad’ break here to appreciate the season and the freezing that comes as surely as the world turns, upon us here in Scotland, bringing us all back to truth)

(…..wasn’t that wonderful! I know, I know….my pictures…but absolutely not my work….thank you, thank you, thank you Mother for the interludes of Beauty that punctuate my days….and give me breath, yet render me speechless! Would that all ‘ad breaks’ were like this!)

An aspect of my way of working, that I have never before articulated, is that somehow writing live on this screen (mainly through Facebook) seems to help me make a contact with expressing the now, in a way that writing and writing, on real paper, with a pen, does not.
I am forever copying and pasting to word document, catching those fleeting, truth-ringing, phrases and reactive expressions and filing them away.
Often returning to them.

This blank space of pure, white, light seems to call, more powerfully than any tree-derived page, to my inner essence, often by-passing the monkey mind….with the obvious advantage of spell check and ‘cut and paste’ for the, lexically challenged, individual that I AM.

I have practiced automatic writing, almost religiously, since my art college days, as a way of processing emotions and my feelings about the world.
I am in possession of books and books worth of such adventures with words.
I even went to enormous lengths to transcribe years worth of physical pages, written before the birth of the internet, and collected them together in the form of an anonymous blog.
At times I feel almost ashamed that, in many ways, this is just as bad as the material accumulation I profess to be working against!

My degree show, (now 30 years ago! where does the Time go?) featured two characters,
The Catcher and Debris.
‘The Catcher’ was an almost rabid hunter and collector of memories.
His aim to become immortal through this collection. He was a dis-likable metaphor, who at that time I ridiculed, believing him to represent all that was wrong with present ‘civilization’. But I cannot help seeing myself in him now, with all this diligent filing and documentation of my life’s words.
Debris was altogether sadder.
A woman who sat at the edge of life’s sea and let the waves of flotsam and jetsam build up around her until she could no longer see the ocean.
I like to think I have avoided that way of being…but as the files grow and are never published, perfected and released into the wider world, I am not so sure!
The degree show was titled ‘Spook’.
In many ways Spook was the main character. Never seen, but always passing through.
‘Spook’ is the character that represents being IN THE NOW…the illusive momentary rush of just living.
I was going to try and write now….something new, that arose in this moment…but having been poked by that original work I think I will just share a link to it here….

https://katalyzor.wordpress.com/2013/10/04/degree-show-visual-and-performing-arts-ba1991-the-performance-1991/

The visual side of my, multi-disciplined, creative practice, sits, parked for now, goading me ever from the side-lines, while I catch up with this curious journey, feeling into the power of Word.

This parallel aspect continues to grow and develop though and is constantly fed and influenced by this journey.

Looking forward to returning to it after this deep dive.

Something about self-expression in image, music and dance (I seem to do a lot less of this last option with age though!), the theater of it, that captures better the essence of ‘life’s mystery’.

I find I feel less guilty of inflicting my thoughts on a matter on another….what is it they say?….the pen is mightier than the sword?

Well all I can say is this clay-more is often too heavy for me to lift!!

Hence my love of poetry when it comes to words…..takes more time to pack, but lighter and easier to carry.

Off now to walk the path from old world to new and see what emotions arise on that slippery cliff face!

camellias bloom 55/72

(working as part of a ‘Japanese 72 season micro-climate’ artist collaborative initiative within Treesisters)

Japanese season called ‘Ritto’ / beginning of winter, 7th November – 21st November
Micro climate ‘camellias bloom’ 7th November – 11th November

Here the Japanese calendar and ours seem to really part company! Not expecting blooming camellias until next spring….

The writing course continues to occupy my creative mind….

on LOVE….


Love.

Love.
Felt most when it is missing.

I fell through a hole in the net of human love and landed in a bigger Love.

There is no escaping it, although it is easy not to see when not wrapped in the arms and legs and skin and eyes of another.

Sometimes I play a game with the songs on the radio.
So many about ‘Love’.
I join in, sing along and lend them new intention…
Re-address them to all around me, to the world, to the trees, to the ground I walk on, to the sky….the words seem always to fit…(with a few, important, pronoun tweaks)….even the sadder , angrier ones…..and I wonder if it could really be that easy?
Instead of singing to ourselves, talking among ourselves, we can just sing and converse to and with the whole.

Loving the whole. ourselves as part of the whole.

(Phonetically this points to something else!)

Yes, even loving the hole.
The hole I dug to plant something new?
That hole I fell through that brought me back to earth?
The terrifying holes at the edge of the universe pulling and pushing us, those tiny black holes in each cell in creation?
The hole in my heart that makes me feel something is missing?
Loving the gap? Loving the void?

Wherever a vacuum is felt, fill it with Love.

Love connects all.

Love is power.

Love is everywhere and glues it all together.

This sun loves it’s solar system. This Light is Love.
The earth loves the sun. The moon loves the earth. The oceans love the earth and the moon. The sky loves the earth as the earth loves it’s sky.

All the elements exist in a dance of Love.

All that enjoy life upon the earth’s surface love the earth…except, apparently, humans who continue to attempt to defy gravity….

Is Love gravity?

There is a kind of gravity to Love.

I feel it and it always shows me the holes, the gaps that I can fill with it. I, naturally, rush in wherever I see it missing.

For I am also Love.

Although, sometimes, it feels like I am not enough….

My love is never rejected, it cannot be, but it is often consumed….and only ever by humans.

By those who think it is smaller than it really is….those who believe they exist outside this love…who live by wrong definition….those that seek more selfish, physical, reward….who deny its power and its gravity….themselves becoming ‘black holes’…their need for Love both denied and undeniable….insatiable even.

I rest in the knowing that Love is ever present.

This big Love is the present.

The present I am ever enabled to give,

that presents in all I behold.

Be held…..

BE IN LOVE.

Kat Robertson 10th November  2019

And then today I shared this description of a powerful encounter I had in this season. I did not know when I began it, but it grew to fulfill the next 3 prompts…..Fear, Reverence, and Shame….still reeling from the way the the words flowed….

Swan

It stood.
Basking in the sunshine.
At the mouth of the town river.
A kind of illusion.
Standing on a rock in the water.
A single mute swan.

All else dropped away.

How was it that I had never really seen a swan before?
I had woven with Swan, danced with Swan, drawn Swan
Even called for Swan…

“Power to these wings so these words will fly, cutting like a white wing, through a humming sky….”

Standing on the riverbank I was awe struck.
Amazed that other dog walkers and passers-by did not also join me, to stop and gape at this creature, beyond our imagining, so complete, so perfect, so, unutterably, fine.

I moved closer. Gentle words passed over my lips. The frost crunched underfoot. I raised my camera, asking permission…the whole world around seemed to fade away.

Just me and Swan and Water and Sky and Light.
Such Light.
Each feather seemed to hold a spectrum of crystalline, blueish, beauty.
It moved with such precision and grace.
Sometimes its powerful, serpentine, neck would fold on itself and it would rest, nestled in its own perfection.
Thinking swan thoughts. Making no sound.

It saw me there.

I moved closer toward the bank, passed the undergrowth, and saw another path appear, right along the edge of the water…..
Then I felt it….Fear.
If I took that path I would become trapped.
The undergrowth above me, preventing escape.

The swan watched me intently.

Perhaps it also felt it….that wariness….what kind of human was I?
One that threw stones or bread?
Was it the swan’s fear I was feeling?
Or only my own?

It was a strong bird. A huge powerful bird. A muscular, mighty, feathered, wonder. A conqueror of kilometres.
A emperor among birds.

Dark tales of swan attacks crept into my psyche.
I whispered words of Peace and Love.
Viscerally awake now. Doubly alive.
So aware of its potential speed and power. The might of its huge wings. The sharpness of its vivid beak. I could almost hear a hiss….

I was alone here. Just me and the swan.

I was in no doubt that only my legs could save me, if it decided I had no place there…I would have to run….

The swan regarded me with its infinite, black, eyes, then turned away. Deciding I was no threat. Defending its chosen place in the sun.

I found myself wishing I had some bread, some crumbs, something, to give the swan.
But I had nothing, only these whispered words of Love and Awe.

I took a few more steps along the edge.

Some rubbish was caught in the grasses. I thought of picking it up. But did not. I had nowhere to put it.
This was a different angle….my camera focused on the swan.
But all was heightened now. My breath came faster.
“It is just a swan” I told myself….but somewhere deep inside I knew that this was so much more than ‘just a swan’.
This was inspiration.
This was the stuff of fairytales and myths.

Look at it. Really look at it.

The swan reared up and stretched its wings, arching its huge body in the light. It shook it head….I gasped in reverence.

“You are taller than me!” I whispered.

It posed for me, reflected in the water.

“Thank you swan” I said…..but for a second I saw a scorpion in its reflected image….sensed a double edged sword of light and truth….and felt the Fear again.

It curled up and stared at me through its feathers.

Then, with precise and graceful deliberation, it stepped off its rock and dipped into the water. Easy in this element.
So quick, the way it cut through the water. Perfectly designed.

It glided, soundlessly, toward me.

“I have no bread. I have nothing for you” I said, out loud this time…..I began to walk fast, determined not to run. I turned the camera off and put it in my pocket…pretended to turn my attention to other things around….”Its ok swan….I am leaving now”…..all the time aware of making distance between me and the swan behind me.

When I felt there was enough distance, I stopped and turned around.

The swan had returned to the rock.
Taking its place, once again, in the landscape.
Enjoying the sun, basking in its rays.
This human had not been worth it.

I felt ashamed.
Ashamed of my fear.
Ashamed of not having more than words to give.
Ashamed that I had not picked up the rubbish.
Ashamed that I felt I had never really seen Swan before….not quite like this….

But enriched by this encounter.

I had some great photos and something to write about, something real.
Something to do with Reverence, Fear and Shame.

A gift. A blessing. An eye-opener. A truth.
A brilliant reflection, in a, dirty, river of life.
An opportunity to glimpse the power that lies beneath….reflected in its surface.

How easily, how quickly, our arrogance and sense of security can be toppled by Nature.
How fast it can all change…

It probably meant me no harm.
Just as curious as I.
Although I doubt it felt the awe and reverence that rippled through my being, in our brief encounter.
I had felt, for a moment, the nightmares of the entire world at the very idea that one day, if so inclined, our earth could turn against us.

We would not stand a chance.

So I learned.

Always have something to give back.
Always pick up the rubbish where you see it lying.
Always have your eyes open to the sheer magnificence that is all around….

And always show reverence.


It will not save you, but it is deserved.


Kat Robertson 14th November 2019

light rains sometimes fall 53/72

(working as part of a ‘Japanese 72 season micro-climate’ artist collaborative initiative within Treesisters)

Japanese season called ‘Soko’ / frost falls, 23rd October – 6th November
Micro climate ‘light rains sometimes fall’ 28th October – 1st November

It properly rains today. The sky a thick grey cover.
Sun and rainbows departed.
The absolutely mind blowing, recent, night skies, obscured from view again.

All costumes and fleeting chaos of Samhain celebrations put away…but I’ll keep the lanterns lit until they rot!

The smell of swede and pumpkin soup fills our home.

I have been busy word wrangling though! For the ‘Writing in the Liminal’ project.

There will be too many words here for many to digest….but sharing here, purely for documentation of this continuous, creative, Rolling Om….so many ways to be creative!
I hope some will have the time/inclination to read!
These are very huge questions of our Times.
Grateful to be given the platform, the opportunity, to explore them…..

(Prompt)
What is it like to be alive in this Time?

There is a big difference between being alive and just living.
Being alive is carrying the acute awareness of the preciousness of days.
Just living is performing as expected.
Performing as expected equals normal.

I no longer feel at all normal in these unprecedented times.
I feel more alive than ever, now that our Time appears more finite.

I make Time now.

This is not normal or expected of me.
It is difficult to do.
I make time to sing, to write, to draw, to play, to pray.
To spend time in Nature.
Making Time becomes a priority.
And in doing so I, often now, experience Joy.

Naively perhaps, I dream that the more of us make this quality of Time,
the longer we will all have,
That this may, miraculously, serve to slow our inevitable descent…..

Yesterday, when I was word wrangling, (already lost in Death), my old mobile phone said it was charging, even when removed from its charger. Coming to the end of its days. Disconnected, but still charging. Charging from the ether….or saying it was….

I thought “this is a bit like what it is like to be alive in these times….”

Yesterday I had our family home to myself and I smudged the whole house from top to bottom, then banged my drum in every corner. I stood in my kitchen and felt a spontaneous song rise in me…I sang it loudly, rooting like a tree, in the centre of our house. I realised that I am hardly ever free to do this, as my family are always around….and how compromised my life is in caring for others…accommodating their opinions of me, in this unknown….

I thought “this is a bit like what it is like to be alive in these times….”

Yesterday the weather here was beautiful. The golden light stunning all around, on our hill. I walked barefoot in the garden. My old friends psilocybin are popping up now in our lawn. The low autumn sun picks out their magic in the mown grass. But you do not see them if you look for them. You have to relax your gaze. Let it all in. Look past it all, through it all. And only then will they speak to you. Forbidden, hidden, fruits. Who forbade them? I wonder as I walk, carefully, across vibrant, fragile networks…beneath my soles…..

I thought “this is a bit like what it is like to be alive in these times….”

Yesterday I needed to collect my son and the car would not start. I had to jump start it myself and made it eventually. I was late and my son was quite upset.

I thought “this is a bit like what it is like to be alive in these times….”

Yesterday I watered all my houseplants. All totally dependent on me and crying out for water. And I felt their gratitude as I gave it to them.

I thought “this is a bit like what it is like to be alive in these times….”

Yesterday I made luxury fishcakes and filled them with love. More adult tastes, with horseradish, lemon and hot smoked trout served with beans grown in our garden. My children did not like it.

I thought “this is what it is like to be alive in these times….”

Today I woke haunted by this not being enough.
But a quiet voice, deep inside, assures me this is everything.


The rising sun hit a sculpture of birds flying, hanging above my bed, and its shadow was crisp and dark against the wall. It was beautiful.

It gave the sculpture such depth.

I thought “this is what it is like to be alive in these times….”

And rose to meet the new day.

Kat Robertson 30th October 2019

(Prompt)
What am I leaving behind?

Working, daily, to leave behind any and all attachment and simply reside in a bigger love.

Maintaining a wider view, to the best of my ability.
Tiny in a vast, bigger, picture.

Breaking it all down into smaller parts, weirdly, connects with wholeness.

Just another love-life full of precious moments, good and bad, both in front and behind me.
Like the beads on a mala.
I feel the string…..the two ends are tied tightly…..

Sometimes these moments feel more like the dew drops hanging on a spider’s web….going out in all directions….sparkling in the sun….and any movement, from me, or the wind, means that they fall to the ground, and my presence is felt….she is coming for me….I can almost feel her fangs….

Or like bubbles in a rushing stream, appearing together as a white, swirling, froth of being…..only to dissolve again as the terrain levels out and deep, peaty depths push slowly, powerfully, toward the sea’s comforting, collective embrace…becoming briny…then that freshness dissolving in to a salty preserving reservoir for all life….

How does this make me feel?

Only guilty of the knowing that we have little real influence on the string, the web or the river, and of finding Joy and Gratitude, while others grieve, but, each day, more confident in the forever of all things, more grateful for each breath, and less afraid of the dark.

And this can become a powerful weapon against those who seek to sell me, tell me, something other.

Kat Robertson 30th October 2019

(revisiting sub-prompts!)

More on these themes….

As you look back to the shore, what are you personally leaving behind?
All attachment.
As this results in truly being Present, and the in the Flexibility, Resourcefulness and the Resilience that I am sure we will all need.
Indeed what we were originally designed for! LIFE!

What part of civilization do you feel is already dead?
The parts that are already, currently, hanging themselves. And, due to our, also dis-eased, morbid, fear-creating, media….doing this in full view.
It is frightening to bear witness to this, increasingly probable, collapse.
I am a capable and experienced, life-long, kind of ‘prepper’. I just have developed deep trust in my own abilities to survive. No bunkers, food stores, guns or technological wizardry here. I use this time to hoard wood burners, useful pipes, wood and materials, and to learn as much as I can, to hone my instincts!

ALL grief I feel is for all those who have grown dependent on the system. Not really for me or my family. Those who are not seeing this tragic trajectory, (whether from denial or more genuine inability), those who are not preparing. Those for whom any ‘collapse’ will be catastrophic as they have not placed themselves where I have, essentially confident that I am surrounded by all I could possibly need. (Unless, of course, it all becomes poisoned, polluted…) For all those who have not, already, tested themselves.
I experience a real, empathic, fear for those who have not learned these skills, of living within nature, of cooking on fires, growing food, hunting, fishing etc. Who do not know Nature and her bounteous gifts and who are separated from that natural, mutual, sometimes brutal, reality.
Sometimes I hear that collective scream of abandonment….I recognize it….for I have already been through it. I have never trusted this civilization’s parenting. I try not to imagine the chaos that will surely come as so much of these systems collapse.
When there is no ‘teat’ /switch for light or warmth.
I even can imagine being held up at gun point, for all we have built here… (we are readying ourselves to share, but those desperate hungry souls will also be swarming, surviving the only way they were taught, and will probably come armed), but I also know the forest and how to walk in the dark.
I know the extremes of temperature. I know how cold it is at night, what it is like to not be able to find anywhere to get dry, to not find food for a day, how earth tastes, how that wetness can permeate through to bone. I know those layers of dirt and how wood smoke claws through all clothes and hair. The sheer, visceral, comparative, misery of all of that.
But also how, if it does not claim you, it will give way, inevitably, to the real joy at the sun’s rays, the simple joy and reverence for the heat of Fire. I understand how tough I will have to become again, how shortened my life will be…but this is, I have always felt, is what I was built for. Somewhere deep inside I know this is the meaning of being truly alive and in right relationship.

But I do not seek it out. I roll in the lap of civilization like a cat. Squeezing every last drop of this ease out of it. Daily grateful for its comforts, just not at all confident in its sustainability….I just do not trust it.
To me it has always been an illusion.

What aspects are you glad to leave? What will you miss?
Of course I will miss the artificial ease of things. I enjoy the central heating. HOT WATER from a tap!! Our house-box, furnished with what others throw away.
I enjoy the TV! I love films, art galleries and museums, literature, philosophy and science ‘news’. I enjoy tobacco and bitter coffee. I enjoy driving. I enjoy special trips to the city and the treats that civilization has to offer. I enjoy the expansive opportunities still available to my children, even though they always seem now tainted by colonialism and slavery to me. I pray our youth will find a way through this labyrinth of change that will be smoother than I, currently, anticipate!
In all honesty, all these things have always seemed surplus to requirements in my simple brain. All luxuries. All privilege. And all symptoms of our greed and arrogance, the ill-earned gains of war and looting on a global scale.
A part of me longs to be fitter. To feel more. To not be so immature. To be real, not cushioned. To be fitter, not from using a gym or going jogging, but from having to find food, from having to collect water/firewood, out of necessity. I have grown soft and ‘weak’. I see myself as any tribal warrior might do. Pretty useless on the face of it.
But I live my, now ‘adult’ life, always ready to live, again, in a tent, a van, a hand hewn shelter. I always have to have the alternatives close in order to feel safe…..ready. Perhaps also as some sort of retirement plan!
Cramming now for that ultimate test. Which plants to use for what. What can be foraged. What is poisonous. Learning the ebbs and flows of the seasons and cycles of harvest. In full knowledge of the SHOCK that it will be, if I ever have to truly exist again in this reality.
But also looking forward to having that real, immediate, basic, sense of purpose and place….as my ancestors also, always, remind me….once again.

I would be very happy to leave behind all layers of bureaucracy, endless form-filling, box ticking, utility bills, car repairs, current ‘news’, the oppression and impotence of modern living…..

What is the link between your emotions and the natural world or the ‘soul of the world’?
We all have to believe in something.
I choose to work on, nurture, sculpt my belief that each one of us is a necessary cog in the workings of this glorious world. That the Earth is alive, and conscious, and that we are all tiny parts of this, awe inspiring, whole.
That we are nature and we have the power to tune into her emotions.
Emotions that, I believe, live in a cloud, not in my head. Available to all who choose to open to it.
That are there to guide us.
Carried, as information, in primal steam, humidity, water.
That we must be the change we want to see.
I want to see people becoming stiller, geographically, physically. So they can begin to access this. To allow for dreaming….
I’d love for ‘our’ internet to keep going. I would miss this. I can see ways that this could happen. More virtual connection/travelling/sharing and less emphasis on, personally, owning that ‘first hand’ experience. That need will be fulfilled, once again, from our deeper, survival based, local relationship with land and the humans directly in our circles. Our communities. Looking after each other in real ways.
Less obsessed with ideas of personal development, building, national identity and global authority. Content with less and tuning into all the riches around we are already blessed with!
It would be amazing for all these communities to remain connected though!

Personally though, in embracing my family, and observing the wider, human, mainstream, perspective, I do not see any of this happening easily, if at all, unless a real collapse takes place. An asteroid disaster? An alien invasion? A terrible war? Well, these would speed things up!

The people rising in demand of change seems the safest, slowest, transition, one which offers some of the home comforts for those that require them…. and I can go anytime (almost guilty of not walking my talk!)….but our planet still, may well, have other ideas……..ones we have never even dreamed of….

And there is always space for miracles in the mix somewhere…….

First response to this huge, partitioned, question was ALL about our collective relationship with DEATH…I chose not to share it as the question was all about ‘being alive’, but not sure we can separate the two!

To be ALIVE in this time is
to dance with Death.

But Death has become a stranger here.
Shut away.
Buried deep in shadows, which we fill with all things fearful.
Where we dare not look
So remaining
Unknown.
Behind the door.
Underground.

Somewhere, that we have been falsely educated, lies close to Hell and the Devil.

To go deeper is to go ‘below’.
Down.
Closer to Death and bones, tree roots and worms, rocks and lava, dark caverns….
all we have been encouraged to weave into our nightmares.

We need to bridge this void.

Close this circuit.

Exist brilliantly and in full acceptance and celebration of endings as well as beginnings.
Of Death…..in balance with Birth and vica versa.

Between the up and the down.
Stars and soil. Galaxies and ground. Cosmos and core.
Make our own bodies that real, live, wire.

And Earth it.

Be sparks. Bridging the void between birth and death.

Watch those embers that burns bright and soars toward the stars….and then, as carbon, floating gracefully, back to the Earth, invisible in the dark….

And learn from them.

Kat Robertson 31 October 2019

first frost 52/72

(working as part of a ‘Japanese 72 season micro-climate’ artist collaborative initiative within Treesisters)

Japanese season called ‘Soko’ / frost falls, 23rd October- 6th November
Micro climate ‘first frost’ 23rd – 27th October

A quick one.

So many rainbows this season! No real frost yet, but feeling it in the air.

Another season passes when I have had little time to get ‘into the zone’.
All my new earth pigments and inks are ready, but somehow I am not! Too many other priorities. It all lies , laid out so invitingly, begging me to come and play….I am choosing to believe that there is reason behind this! There is something, some secret ingredient to this alchemy that I am missing.

As with the sun and rain chasing each other so fast across the sky, my focus shifts one way and the other.

I have joined a writing experiment online. Created by a fellow Treesister, Sandy Ibrahim. It is called ‘Writing in the Liminal: Emotional Wisdom in Chaotic Times”. The prompts are ‘right up my tree-lined alley’!
It involves digging deeper into some really huge questions and the experience is blowing me away! So many others expressing there too….so beautifully!

I am committed now, too, to this….perhaps this is what the painting side of my discipline is is ‘waiting for’…..? This deeper delving….

Sharing this work here too….all Rolling Om Productions!

My introductory Haiku.

We breathe her all in
Attempting now to breathe out
With grace and purpose.

Kat Robertson 14th October 2019

Prompt: What is the purpose of an emotion? Imagine you are explaining to an alien.

“I have already answered this question.”
“I have already answered this question”
comes the echoed reply, bouncing off some unseen barrier between the alien and I?
“I do not know how I feel when I see you”
I do not know how I feel when I see you” bounces back.
Is this the alien’s voice, or simply a cosmic echo?
“What is a human emotion for?”
What is a human emotion for?”
I feel frustrated and simply gaze at the alien.
It moves a little. Kind of like it waved. Shimmered for a moment.
I felt it’s shimmer.
“I feel and am guided by my emotions. All emotions seem rooted in love.” I answer anyway.
All I heard back was…..
I….am….All….in love.”
The alien shimmered again….became less apparent….it moved toward me.
Then I was inside it and was feeling everything.
Everything at once.
“This feels like love” I said.
This feels like love” echoed back.”Thank you!” I smiled.
Thank you !”
I could no longer see the alien…..but I felt it smile too.”

Kat Robertson October 28th 2019

crickets chirp around the door 51/72

(working as part of a ‘Japanese 72 season micro-climate’ artist collaborative initiative within Treesisters)

Japanese season called ‘Kanro’ / cold dew, 8th – 22nd October
Micro climate ‘crickets chirp around the door’ 18th – 22nd October

This mirco-season I have been pulled in all directions. Some troubles of my heart. Challenges in our family life.

And , just now, into intense waves of nostalgia.

Autumnal thinking in this time of thinner veils.

No cricket’s here…the grasshoppers stopped their chirping quite a while ago now….

I am already ‘late’ with this and was only going to share only this very simple gallery of my garden and the colours around…but now something quite ‘other’ burns in my soul….but first here is a small celebration of the colour around….

An email concerning the royal couple’s visit to Pakistan jerked me into intense nostalgia.

Prince William and Kate went to visit the Kalash!

The tribe I lived with (for about I year in total in North Pakistan), deep in the Hindu Kush mountains. In Nuristan district (land of lights).

Seeing them ‘live’ now brought about such a wave of intense memories. And these in turn brought about such whirling emotions.

I travelled, alone, in Nepal, India and Pakistan over about 4 years in my early twenties. This initially happened due to my travelling companion falling ill, just before we were due to fly to Nepal.
It was either go alone or loose the ticket.

So I went.

Quickly I grew to love the total freedom of being a single, white, woman in Asia. A kind of access all areas experience….
Looking back it seems quite remarkable that a young woman my age would have done this!! I cannot really imagine what my family may have gone through, as this was years before the technology available now to keep in contact….I do regret putting them through that.
But I did contact them once a month to let them know I was ok!!
And y’know, there were only about two times I ever felt in real danger! And even then, I discovered that I knew how to handle myself….a great lesson for any young woman.

The adventures have always warranted a book….or possibly two…

A while ago now I collated all my diaries into a blog, just as I was beginning to face my deep depression and I realised that I did not know anymore who I was!!

In doing this I remembered….

These diaries are crazy.

Full of short stories, poems, doodles, sentiments and snippets/cuttings….I decided to publish as they were, without editing….and have always seen this blog as more interesting to an diary archivist, than to the general public.

So private was I then that I published this anonymously…..

It can be found here if anyone seeing this has the time or inclination!! It is quite a roller-coaster!

This set me off looking for the only picture I have of me when I was with the tribe.

I quickly found that my camera put ‘something’ between me and them, so abandoned it completely. I feel quite sad about this now in some ways…but my vivid memory is all I really need.

Such an incredible experience. And really the place where I first truly was enabled to ‘live in right relationship’ with this Earth. And conversely informed me of all we are loosing in our culture.

I am sitting here, in the artden, having just sat in the middle of a huge pile of yellowed pictures in yellowed boxes and I am still smelling of ‘old drawers’ and faded incense!!

So, as this is not the place to write that book. I will share a few scans of these precious photographs!

This is my tribal, adopted (she adopted me!) mother and me.

Shringiree. Ma baba. (my Kalash sister) I will never forget her insistence that I live with them, their absolute generosity and all that I learned there through helping out with all the chores etc. Such a precious experience. This picture makes me smile as this was before the Kalash became so used to cameras etc…I dressed as one of the women everyday. I was normally mistaken for one of them by tourists and Pakistani officials, which seems funny when I look at this photo, but there were many fairer and more European looking women among them too, due to their mysterious history.
We were using my camera’s self-timer to get a ‘selfie’ and she was quite nervous as to what going to happen!! I was saying ‘Any minute now….’

This photo was also taken that first year. (I ditched the camera completely in following years) I had just completed the long 5 hour?, and actually very dangerous, walk down from the valleys to Iun, alone. This was taken when I do not think I have ever felt so free….despite the risk of being killed by landslides or wild, mountain, Afghani foresters (there was actually money on my head at one point in later years….they wanted the ‘Kalash’ westerner brought to them….for what I will mercifully never find out….very scarey!) But I remember, how I felt, posing against the mountains for this selfie….just very FREE. I was fearless!! Or stupid, naive….but always somehow protected…

Another ‘so precious’ photo, that I rediscovered, is this one, of, undoubtedly, my best Indian friend and, for a short time, lover,
Jungli Gee.
A one legged, shaggy, wild man who had a deep love for Bob Marley!….
I have no idea how he is doing now, despite efforts over the years to make contact.

There were very wrong rumors about him, he was a very misunderstood individual, by both locals and sometimes visitors, and I feel concerned that other Western women may have misinterpreted his genuine proffered love for something ‘other’ and that he could have been accused of things I know he would never do! Hell, I was single and so was he! Speaking quite reasonable Hindi at the time helped me understand him more and led to my real love for this shaggy ‘hermit’. But it did become complicated, as we literally were ‘worlds apart’….but we gracefully left the more physical side of our relationship behind and remained firm friends.
I lived with him in a ‘cave’ under a rock he called ‘Mata’ (mother) for quite some time, visiting repeated times on various trips to the Himalayas.
Living a very simple life, wearing sari, smoking chillum, washing in the river, drinking from the spring and celebrating, his beloved, Shiva.
He taught me so much about all the plants that grew in the Himalayas, their medicinal value and uses, cooking on a fire and Hinduism.
Our story was real, despite being so unlikely. (I know many ‘travelling in India’, Western, friends were concerned for me, but I also know they were wrong to be!)
I have written lots about him in the diaries also.
I think of him often, in my, now, rather more mundane ‘incarnation’…..this was another place that I was enabled to live in almost perfect harmony with our environment.
Forever grateful for this joyous , deep, friendship. Joyful memories. How different my life would have been if I had stayed with him!!

Soul to soul’s ‘However do you want me’ just came on the radio…now he would have loved that tune!!

So no ‘crickets chirping at my door’….memories of a few other doors…in far away places…..

And precious memories still chirping in my mind….and bubbling gratitude for life filling my world with love and the recognition that I am.

So many extraordinary stories hidden behind so many older women’s eyes.

Most untold, sometimes remembered, but never doubt they are there…..